Sacrifice
by Sarah Kennedy
Summary: When Buffy leaves after sending Angel to hell, she doesn't know or care what will happen to her, until she runs into Spike, and discovers the man behind the demon. Sure, she's lonely, but that alone can't explain the magnetic attraction between them...
1. Empty

Buffy's feet ached as she took another step away from Sunnydale. She'd passed the town limits hours ago and the light of day had fled since then, leaving only the pinprick islands of stars, drowning in the black sea of night. She tugged her shirt tighter around her, torn between pulling a warmer layer from her bag and the desire to get as far away as possible before she had to stop.

Mom. School. Angel. All gone. She had nothing left to give the world but this.

A car's engine behind her grew gradually louder, pulling apart the silence. Buffy turned and moved clear of the road. It was the black car she'd passed at the gas station about an hour back. She was surprised it hadn't caught up before now.

She considered hitching a ride but decided against it. She didn't really want to end up robbed and dead in a ditch somewhere.

Not tonight, anyway.

She stood back, ready to let the one human presence she'd seen in hours go past; an ungrateful, ignorant person who knew nothing of what she'd lost to prevent them getting sucked into hell. Unexpectedly, the car slowed as it approached her, and came to a stop.

She'd thought that, after tonight, nothing could surprise her. Buffy had run out of surprisability. But there was, after all, one thing she never expected to see getting out of a car on the freeway, on this of all nights.

It was Spike.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Buffy said, more from reflex than actually wanting an answer.

"Goin' to ask you the same thin'," Spike drawled lazily, hands shoved in his pockets like nothing was up.

"How can you be here? You ditched me in the middle of the fight! I'd assumed you were interstate by now." And out of her life.

God knew everything else was.

"Got 'ungry. Needed petrol, too."

"Oh." That gas station where they'd been parked… They hadn't caught up because they were busy slaughtering the staff inside. And she'd walked past and hadn't noticed a thing.

But that wasn't her problem anymore.

"Not that this isn't a lovely chat, but I'm wonderin' why you 'aven't tried to kill me yet."

Buffy had been wrestling with that concept too, on the long walk to this point. And she'd come to a solution.

"Because I quit. I give up. Let somebody else save the world next time, because I've had it!" She hadn't noticed she was yelling until Spike flinched, but by then the floodgates were open and all the misery of the last twenty-four hours was storming out. "This isn't even the first time I've saved this stupid planet! I _died _for it last year and I didn't even get a break then! I just kept going like nothing had happened, like the Master never drowned me, because that's what the world demanded. Never mind that I can't take a bath without taking twenty minutes to talk myself into the water. Never mind that the last time I saw a lake I wanted to run screaming in the opposite direction. No, the world says, Buffy's fine, she's got heaps more we can squeeze out of her!"

Her knees gave out and she collapsed onto the grassy verge. Spike, his face wearing an unfamiliar expression - concern, she would have thought, if this weren't William the Bloody - came around the car and sat down beside her. She leant into his side and sobbed into his shoulder. If felt like the most natural thing in the world to have his arm around her, offering comfort.

"But this time I lost so much," she continued, her whisper almost smothered by the hiccups as she fought back her tears. "I got expelled – I was kind of expecting that, but not really – and then Mom threw me out-"

"Your mum? What did she _think_-"

"And then I killed Angel."

"Angel was gone months ago, pet," Spike said softly. "Wasn't your lover you killed tonight. I've seen them both and believe you me, they're not the same man."

"I wish you were right, but you're not. I didn't know that my friends were redoing the curse. To give him back his soul. I didn't know, and I wasn't fast enough, and Acathla was already awake by the time the curse got to Angel…"

Buffy dissolved into another fit of tears. Spike's other arm came around her and held her close. She poured out all the pain that had been knotted up inside her, threw it all out into the wind, hoping it would scatter and never find its way back to her. And it didn't seem at all odd that Spike was there. Maybe she was too out of it to care, or maybe, somewhere under the vampire was a man, a man who was concerned for a girl crying on the edge of the road.

"Only Angel's blood would close the portal," she babbled. "So I killed him. To save the world. A hateful world that doesn't even know his name." Buffy took a deep breath and scrubbed at her face with her hand. "I've given up my mother, my school and my boyfriend tonight. And I figured, since the world had taken everything else, it might as well take my calling too."

"Your-"

"I'm not going to be the Slayer anymore. I officially quit. There'll be another one called after Kendra; this is her game now. The world wants to take everything away from me – well, fine. It can have it, and gladly. After losing all that, one thing isn't worth keeping. The world wants everything I have? Well _fine_! _Take _it! And I wouldn't do it again! Never again! You can just _die _next time!" She hit out at the ground beneath her, slamming her fists into the turf. She vaguely felt Spike pulling her back, holding her hands in his own, stopping her before she destroyed herself. Her eyes clashed with his and she stopped, overwhelmed by what she saw there.

She was sitting next to a vampire who looked more human than anyone she'd ever known. It felt like he was staring right inside her and wasn't judging what he saw. It was like he was looking for Buffy, not the Slayer that everybody else saw, including herself.

She wanted to find Buffy. She wanted to find a human being under the supernatural shell she'd been crammed into.

"Get in the car," Spike said.

Buffy blinked, but her brain wasn't performing anything beyond the minimum tonight. "What?"

"I don' trust you on your own right now. Don' want you givin' up your life again. You're in no condition to walk anywhere. And I may be a vampire now, but I was raised as a gentleman, and I don' like the idea of leaving a pretty lady cryin' in the middle of the road, so get in the car."

Buffy astonished herself by standing up and climbing through the door that Spike held open for her. She had no surprise left to spare when he handing in her bag.

"Find somethin' warm, this car ain't heated," he said, before shutting the door and walking around to the driver's seat.

Buffy hadn't really thought about it, but of course Drusilla was in the car too; she slumped in the front passenger seat.

To sit in the same vehicle as the vampire that had slaughtered a sister Slayer only a day or two ago, and another vampire who had killed two in history, felt –

Nothing. Buffy didn't feel hatred or vengeance or revulsion, not even at herself. She'd gone beyond terrified and exhausted and desperate into a blissful space of nothing.

She felt nothing as Spike put the car in gear and drove away. She felt nothing as he looked back at her, checking if she was alright. She felt nothing as she slipped into sleep.

And nothing felt _wonderful_.


	2. Discussions

It had been a long time since Buffy had had to sleep in the back of a car, but either she was horribly out of practice, or it was tomorrow already, because it was still dark outside. She squinted at the window and revised her estimate. Of course, this car's windows were blacked out. Of course it was dark inside the car.

She was riding with two vampires who, up until a few hours ago, were her sworn enemies.

Buffy braced herself for a massive nervous breakdown over that, but it didn't happen. She supposed that meant she was okay with her situation, or so far on the other side of okay that she had broken orbit and was now drifting aimlessly through space.

She did stop to wonder why she wasn't dead yet. She'd been too out of it last night to worry – she'd taken Spike at face value, which she wouldn't have if she'd been feeling better – and was surprised she hadn't been eaten and dumped back outside. Whether she acted like it or not, her blood was still that of a Slayer. Spike had to feel it. And as for being a gentleman – and that idea was as crazy as the rest of this whole thing – that hadn't stopped him from killing his first two Slayers.

So what was protecting her from becoming number three? Nothing that she could put a name to. It was disconcerting to realize that she was entirely in Spike's power, that she'd put herself there, and worse of all that she didn't want to get out of this car. If he killed her, fine. She had nothing to go back to. No school, no mother, no boyfriend, and while her friends would welcome her, she'd long known they would be safer without her. Sure, on the surface Sunnydale would be more dangerous without her around, but there would be another Slayer there soon, and she would keep them safe. And if she was anything like Kendra, she wouldn't drag them into her fights, like Buffy had.

There was nothing to go back to, so she might as well stay here. Yeah, it was a little unusual – actually it was a giant heap of unusual – to have a Slayer riding with vampires, but seeing as she wasn't the Slayer anymore, it became girl riding with vampires, which wasn't as unusual as all that. Of course, the girl would more likely be food than an ex-Slayer with nowhere better to be.

Buffy shook her head, trying to push her thoughts out of her brain. Too much seriousness this early in the morning – if it was morning. Too soon after waking up, then.

Spike glanced over his shoulder into the back seat, eyes clashing, somehow in a good way, with hers.

"Afternoon."

"Wow, I slept that long? No way." Buffy glanced down at her watch; apparently she had slept that late. That might well be the longest sleep she'd ever had in her life. They'd picked her up around ten last night; it was now three in the afternoon. "Holy cow."

"Reckoned you needed it, so I let you sleep," Spike explained. "Anyone ever tol' you that you mumble in your sleep?"

Buffy frowned. She didn't remember having any dreams that she would talk through – she didn't remember having any dreams at all.

"'ardly surprisin', day you 'ad," Spike continued. "I'm twitchy 'bout what 'appened yesterday too."

"_You're _twitchy?"

"Oh, y'know, what if I 'adn't been able to get Dru out? What if we'd been too late and Angelus had gotten Acathla up already? What if you 'adn't killed Angelus and he decided to come after us? Stuff that could 'ave gone a lot worse than it did."

"What do you know about how it went? You skipped as soon as you could! Fat lot of help you were. Saving the world, my ass."

"'ey, I did wha' I promised! I backed you up and got Dru outta the picture. And I bet it would've been 'arder to kill Angelus if 'e 'adn't had a crowbar in the face courtesy of yours truly."

Buffy fell silent. Easy as it would be to blame Spike for not doing enough, she supposed she should be grateful for as much as she got.

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

She surprised herself and Spike in equal amounts. Spike looked like it was the first time anyone had apologized to him in his life – given who he kept company with, that was probably true – and Buffy was just as astonished that she'd apologized to Spike of all people. Or even at all; she wasn't big with admitting mistakes.

Well, maybe yesterday had changed everybody. Before yesterday (and the day before, really, the line was kind of blurry) her mom would never have thrown her out; whatever the circumstances, Buffy had always counted on her for support. She'd hoped that her mom would laugh or something, say _that explains a lot_, something mom-ish. Not kick her out of the house. Not try to drink herself into a solution – seeing that glass in her mother's hand had been almost as frightening as the rest of it. It was terrifying to think of her mom snapping like that and throwing her out because of –

Because of what? Difference in opinion? Doubting Buffy's assertions about her life?

Because of who had control over Buffy. Her mom had thought she still controlled Buffy's life; Buffy knew she'd been on her own since coming to Sunnydale. No mother wanted to admit her child had a secret life where she wasn't welcome. Buffy shuddered to think of how much worse it would have been if her father had been there.

She shook her head forcefully and locked those thoughts somewhere dark and far away. _Don't even think about coming back_, she'd said. Fine. She wouldn't think about her home or her life or her mother. None of that existed anymore. She didn't _want _to go back. She'd only go forward, to…

She didn't actually know where Spike was taking them. She hoped they'd get there before Drusilla woke up. Whatever was driving Spike to be nice to her – really nice, actually, considering she was A, alive and B, not in fear of her life – was surely absent in Drusilla. She glanced at the windows, hoping for a clue, before remembering they were covered in paint.

"Where are we going?"

"LA," answered Spike. "Originally, to get a plane outta 'ere. Now, I dunno. But Dru likes to be in a city and there's 'eaps of posh places to stay where nobody'll notice us."

Buffy considered ordering him not to kill anybody to get into one of those places, but it wasn't her job anymore, and besides, she was his guest, in a manner of speaking. She'd made her bed with these two and she would lie in it.

She had a sudden image of Spike lying in her bed. She leant forward a bit, trying to see if her imagination matched the reality in front of her. _Ooh, yes…_

Buffy slammed herself back into her seat and told herself to stop checking Spike out. One, Drusilla was in the car with her. Two, she'd only lost Angel yesterday. Three, he was a vampire _without _a soul.

But he was _really _good to look at…

Buffy blamed lack of sleep and food for her stray thoughts. When she was back on her feet she would not be thinking like this. Spike would not be attractive and her mom would not even cross her mind.

She thought she'd be sadder about the first one than the second.

"So, LA," she mused, not really interested in the topic, but trying to distract herself from Spike's hotness. "I would have thought it a bit sunny for you."

"Better than Sunnydale," Spike answered. "More 'otels. We'll find someplace nice we can stay while me and Dru figure out where we're goin' next. And I guess you'll need to do some plannin' too?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. I didn't know where we were going until two minutes ago. And to be honest… I don't really care what happens anymore."

"So, 'ypothetically, if I was to stop this car, jump in the back with you and drink your blood…?"

Buffy shrugged. "Wouldn't care." She really didn't. Spike could do whatever he liked – that image of him in the bed came back again – and she wouldn't care. She'd given up everything that was important to her. Life hadn't been on that list of important things, and even though she still had it, and wouldn't actively throw it away, it wasn't worth protecting.

Nothing mattered anymore. It was surprisingly easy to accept that she was without anything to live for. She knew with absolute truth that if Spike crawled into the back seat and bit down on her neck, she wouldn't stop him.

"Okay, good 'nough," Spike said, pulling the car over. "Still light outside, so we'll have to sit tight for a while." He glanced over at Drusilla, still unconscious in the front seat. "Maybe I 'it you a bit too 'ard," he murmured, brushing her hair out of her face.

"What happened?" Buffy found herself asking, as if she actually cared.

"Gettin' out of the fight. She took me on, got me off Angelus. Wouldn't stop fightin' me. So I knocked her out. 'ad to get 'er out of there quick. Your ultimatum 'angin' over her and all."

"You really do care about her," Buffy said, surprised. "I didn't know vampires could actually care so much about somebody."

"What, you jus' assumed tha' cos we're dead, we're 'eartless?"

"I guess so, yeah. I mean, I know Angel loved me, but I'd assumed that was because of the soul. It was the soul that gave him humanity, love and tenderness and…"

"Thin' abou' souls," Spike said slowly, "is tha' they're not as importan' as you think. A soul's just another word for conscience, really. Whatever Angelus did, Angel was still capable of, he jus' woulda felt like shit about it. And whatever Angel showed to you, love or whatnot, was there in Angelus. I'm soulless, but I love Dru and I feel sorry for you."

Buffy stopped. Nobody had ever said that before. Nobody had ever felt sorry for her. Admittedly there had been a lot less reason before yesterday, but somebody might have noticed that things weren't okay in her head.

"Thank you," she said. "That… that means a lot."

"I'm jus' sayin' it, don't make it weird."

"Oh, this is weird enough as it is. I'm in a car in LA, having a civil conversation with a vampire, that I don't want to stake. And I've left my friends behind me and I don't even care. I haven't actually thought about them all day, or however long it's been. And that doesn't bother me."

"Look, you've been through too much. You need some time off, empty your 'ead for a while. You need a holiday."

"I need a _permanent_ holiday, Spike. I need retirement. Because I couldn't do it again. If I somehow got Mom, Angel and school back, and I had to lose them all again to save the world… I couldn't do it. I can't be trusted with the safety of the world anymore. Even, if I had to go back, and do it all again… I'm not sure I would. The world can go _hang _itself. I just want my _own _life. There'll be some new Slayer, hopefully more like Kendra, with nothing to lose, and she'll save the world. I've seen it through two apocalypses. It's her turn."

Buffy rocked her head back against the seat. She was so tired. She needed a very hot shower and a very soft bed. And soon.

"Okay, that'll do. Grab your bag." Spike opened the car door to early evening; there was still light around, but the high buildings around them cast enough shadow to be safe. They were in a hotel parking lot, somewhere near the airport judging by the sound and contrails criss-crossing the sky. Buffy stepped out of the car, slinging her back over her shoulder. Spike led the way into the foyer of the hotel, carrying Drusilla in his arms.

It was a nicer place than she'd even stayed in her life. Gorgeous furniture, polished wood, marble floor – of course, this was LA. She sank into a squishy chair and closed her eyes.

In less time than she was expecting, Spike was at her shoulder.

"C'mon, sleepy. This way."

It hurt to pick up the bag again – she probably could have left half this stuff behind anyway – but she followed Spike, still carrying Drusilla, into an elevator.

"Level five," he directed. Buffy hit the button; it pinged softly.

"So, I thought vampires just slaughtered everybody and took over the entire hotel," she said. "But there was a distinct lack of carnage down there. Instead you, what, paid?"

"Thing about LA is the cops have more than an ounce of brain between 'em. Kill an entire hotel – even one guy, if you're unlucky – and somebody's gonna notice. Maybe somewhere else, you'd be right, but in LA I keep my head down."

Buffy would have kept talking, but they arrived at the fifth floor and the doors opened. The carpet was soft beneath her feet; she wanted to lie down in it and sleep. Mindlessly, she followed Spike, listening to him counting the room numbers.

"Five-two-one, five-two-two, five-two-three. This is us." Awkwardly he fumbled a room key from his pocket. "Five-two-four. That's yours." He nodded at the next door.

The whole scene was so out of character for both of them – Spike having the presence of mind to get her a separate room, and herself accepting it – that for a moment she stood there in the corridor, unable to process what was going on. Spike managed to open his door and maneuver inside, Drusilla still clutched in his arms. Eventually Buffy picked up her bag and let herself into her room.

Any other time she would have been struck by the luxury of her surroundings, but not today. Today, she just dumped her bag, kicked off her shoes, crawled, fully dressed, into the bed and slept.


	3. Loves

Mom is angry. She can tell because she keeps breaking her glass. Her hands come together and the glass shatters, falling in a glistening diamond rain to the floor, accented by the bright rubies of Mom's blood. Then she's holding another one, overflowing with something so alcoholic she can almost feel herself getting drunk off the fumes. Mom's yelling and screaming at her, _get out of my house get out of my house_ but it's her house too and she doesn't want to go. So she starts yelling back, _get out of my house get out of my house _which makes no sense but then Mom turns around and walks out. She doesn't look sad or angry or hurt, just blank, like the person inside her is already dead and she knows she killed her.

Angel's hand on her shoulder whips her around to face him. _How could you do that to me? _His blood pours from a gaping wound in his chest. The sword burns hot in her hand. Then suddenly it's in Angel's hand and he thrusts it through her chest. She stumbles back, flees the revulsion and hatred in his eyes, and tumbles backwards into Hell.

Her friends stand surrounding her, their backs turned. Voices rise, tumbling over each other, a cacophony reminiscent of lunchtime at school – _hey did you hear you'll never believe got French and then she said going out failed the History need another and his girlfriend just get look at this how could you_ – her friends take up the last cry, _how could you how could you _and they're always asking things of her and she just wants them to stop. The sword's in her hand again, shining with Angel's blood – or it is her blood – and she thrusts it through Willow's back. Willow explodes in a swirl of magic. None of the others move as she steps up behind Oz. The sword enters and keeps going, tearing through nothing more than fur that falls to the floor. Cordelia follows, her empty clothes collapsing under the weight of makeup cases and hairbrushes. Her hand tightens on the sword as she runs it through Xander's back, and she's hurled away by a fountain of blood.

The sword floats on the river of blood as it pushes her back past her house, past the school, along the freeway and up to a hotel. Spike's standing outside and he pulls her from the flood and shouts into her face. _Buffy! _he yells, shaking her. _Buffy!_

"Buffy! Damn it, wake up!"

Buffy mumbled some incoherent reply and pushed his hands off her shoulders. "Get off me, I'm fine." Her throat ached like fire and speaking had only made it worse.

"Bollocks you're fine. Screamin' fit to wake the dead, more like. Which you actually did, by the way."

"Oh. Sorry."

Buffy pushed his surprisingly gentle hands from her face and sat up, pulling the blankets up around her shoulders. Sleep-haze still floated in her mind, but not enough to fog the alarm screaming _this-is-not-okay! _She knew it was there but it just didn't seem to matter enough. Somehow, the alarm was wrong. Everything was just fine. There was no problem with Spike comforting her after a nightmare, no problem with him being in her bedroom.

"S'alright. Not like I need to sleep, anyway. I jus' like to. Not sure if I would, though, if I had nightmares like yours."

"It was nothing special. I killed everybody but I've had much worse than that before."

"You killed everybody?"

"Well, first I threw Mom out of the house. And then Angel killed me, and then I stabbed all my friends in the back, one by one. And then you woke me up." Even reported blandly, it still sounded awful to her ears. Images swam through her mind, Mom's face contorted in disappointment and disgust, her friends dying without fighting her, Angel's revenge. She knew from past experience that this dream would hang around with her for days.

Spike shuddered and sat down on the bed beside her. A few days ago she would have shrieked and fled to the opposite side – of the room, most likely. Now she didn't want him to be anywhere else. "And you say that's nothin' special? Sounds bloody awful."

"It is, but I've had worse. Prophecy dreams. I get to see blood and death and apocalypse, and then get told to stop it all. I wonder if I'll still get those. Well, even if I do, I'm not doing anything about it. The Buffy-phone is officially off the hook."

Her hands were trembling and she pushed them into the blanket. Of course, she would be a lot worse off if she were alone. Buffy was very much a member of the 'talking about it makes it better' school, and if she'd had nobody to talk to it would have just stayed locked up inside her, and she probably would have had the same dream the next night, and the next, and the next…

There was a low, keening wail from next door. Buffy shivered and Spike's head jerked up at the sound.

"That's Dru. I've got to go." He stood up but remained hovering awkwardly next to her bed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "But I've really got to…"

"Yeah, sure, go," Buffy said. But as Spike left through the connecting door she was surprised to feel something – an actual emotion – surging through her chest. She hadn't felt it this strong since seeing Angel with Cordelia at the Bronze.

She was jealous.

Of Drusilla.

Over Spike.

* * *

Ever since she'd begun to fight vampires every night, the words _reality check _had pretty much lost their meaning. All the same, looking at her life right now would require admitting that she and Spike were practically friends, she had no desire to stake Drusilla for killing Kendra, she had renounced her calling and she had abandoned her friends.

Oh, and that she was jealous of Drusilla over Spike.

Hello! Buffy to brain, are you receiving me? Buffy shook her head. Now was not the time for anything of that nature. She really didn't need another vampire love. Especially not a soulless one.

Then again, according to Spike, the soul didn't actually make that much difference. It wasn't the infallible safeguard she had imagined. A soul was simply a conscience – a mechanism to cause guilt. It was chilling to think of Angel being capable of Angelus's monstrosities, that the only thing preventing him was how bad he would feel about it. But once she thought it through she could see having a soul didn't make up a saint. Humans were perfectly able to commit crimes on par with Angelus's. She remembered names from History class that were far, far worse than his. And as much as she would like to take the easy way out and declare them all demons, she knew they were human. Their souls hadn't stopped them. A soul wasn't a guarantee of good behaviour; it wasn't a parental filter or anything like that. It was, at best, unreliable. And yet, she had relied on Angel's soul to prevent him from being Angelus.

Buffy shook her head again, more forcefully this time. She'd been so careful to keep Angel and Angelus separate in her head. If Spike was right, they weren't separate at all. Everything Angelus was, Angel was too. And all the tenderness and kindness she'd loved so much in Angel was still there in Angelus. They were the same person. It was nowhere near as clean as a Jekyll and Hyde situation.

Maybe she was soulless. That would explain a lot of things. Why she didn't feel bad about abandoning her sacred duty to protect the world. Why she didn't care that her friends were probably worried to death. Why she really hadn't thought about going back home. It was like Angel had taken her soul with him as he fell into Hell.

No, be honest. As she threw him in.

Then again, she wasn't totally over it. If somebody offered up her friends, her mother, Angel and reenrollment at Sunnydale High she'd take them with both hands. She just wouldn't do anything to get them back herself. And she was _okay_ with that.

Buffy exhaled and sank back into the bed. For the first time since sending Angel to Hell she actually felt all right. The mess that she called a head was sorted out, more or less; dreams notwithstanding, she'd had the best sleep she'd had for years; and she wouldn't deny it was better to be in a swanky hotel than almost anywhere else she could think of. Including back home in her own bed. Buffy was an adult, a free adult, and she could have her own life.

Although, Spike seemed to be doing a pretty good job of taking care of her. He could keep doing that for… honestly, as long as he wanted. Buffy wouldn't have thought it possible, but there was a heart beneath that vampiric exterior. And she wanted to get to know it better.

Of course, right now it was in the other room tending to the person it really belonged to.

Suddenly she wasn't chilled anymore, she was burning with jealousy again. It was ridiculous how strong it felt, how much she wanted to be in Drusilla's place. To have a guy so totally devoted to you, a guy who was actually interesting, who actually had depths that could be reached.

In other words, everything Angel wasn't.

Angel, despite knowing him since coming to Sunnydale and dating him for almost that long, was still a total mystery to her. Sure, he was dark and enigmatic, cute and caring, but sometimes she wished he wouldn't treat her like porcelain. Sometimes she'd like him to crack a joke, make a pun after slaying a vamp, like she did. Even a smile for no reason, or to quietly lace his fingers through hers when they were out walking, would be nice.

Something to remind her that he was human.

The problem was that, soul or not, he _wasn't _human, and he didn't make an effort to disguise it. No, he buried himself in philosophy, ethics and morals, brooding over what he'd done in the past. Yes, he was tender. Yes, he loved her – _had _loved her. But tenderness and love were also to be found in cats, dogs, fish, and turtles. In other words, animals.

She didn't want to think of Angel as an animal, but sometimes it seemed like she had no other choice.

Spike, on the other hand, very much wrapped himself in a human exterior. The smoking, the bleached hair – she'd have bet good money he drank like a sponge – Spike wore his humanity and his vampirism in equal pride. In fact, she'd seen the one far outdo the other. In the church, when trying to restore Drusilla, he'd abandoned the fight with Buffy to get his love to safety. He hadn't gone ahead and killed her – something that was well within his abilities – and he hadn't killed Angel in passing. He'd grabbed the woman he loved and ran.

It was something very human, to choose escape over mayhem. Something she hadn't expected to see in any vampire. And while Spike seemed to get into causing pain in others as much as the next vamp, in that regard he was hardly on par with Angelus or some of the other vampires she'd faced. Despite his exceptional fighting skills, his plans had been surprisingly easy to unwind. Ruining parent/teacher night? Attacking a bunch of idiots who _wanted _to be vampires in the first place? Come on!

Spike was somehow more _likable _than Angel. Even though they were supposedly enemies, that fact was remarkably easy to put aside when they both wanted to. And she could hardly picture herself telling _Angel _of all the torment she'd lived through in the past two years.

_Oh, by the way, remember when the Master drowned me? I'm still terrified of going into water, including the bath._

_That's nice Buffy, but it's time to decipher this prophecy and put yourself in mortal danger now._

Yes, that was very close to what she'd actually get from Angel. Compare that to Spike – a hug, and a promise of safety, and a prompt to keep talking because he was actually interested in what she had to say.

She couldn't remember a time when she'd cried in front of Angel.

Yet somehow it was so easy to let her control go when she was around Spike. Somehow she didn't feel judged or embarrassed to show weakness. She _should _have felt like he would jump on it and exploit it, use it to bring her down, but somehow she'd rather feel vulnerable in front of an enemy than in front of her friends.

How was it that Spike was there for her when nobody else was?

No. The question should be, why was nobody else there for her?

Why couldn't see confide in her friends, or her mom, or even her Watcher? That was supposed to be his job, after all, but she couldn't see herself breaking down in front of him any more than Angel.

Maybe it was because Spike didn't need her to be somebody. Everyone else needed her to be strong and perfect and infallible. Spike didn't need her to be somebody she wasn't. He was just taking care of _her_, whoever she was.

And she really believed he wanted to. He'd looked so distressed when he'd left her to be with Drusilla, and he hadn't killed her despite her assurances she wouldn't even fight him. Maybe he'd only wanted to kill the Slayer. Maybe he'd never had anything against Buffy. And since she wasn't the Slayer anymore, she had no more right to hate him for being a vampire than he had to hate her for being human.

It would be so easy to like him. So easy to find the man hidden inside – a man that wanted to come out. Buffy was half-afraid she already did like him.

The other half was afraid that she could love him.


	4. Collide

Buffy's head jerked up as the connecting door opened and Spike stepped through.

"Dru's sleepin'," he said, pulling the door shut behind him. "She still doesn' know you're 'ere, and it's prob'ly a good idea to keep it that way."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "So what now?"

Spike frowned. "Don' rightly know. I'd planned to take me and Dru outta the country, somewhere in Europe maybe. But that may not work so well with you 'ere. Whattaya wanna do with yourself?"

"I'm really not sure. I guess I _don't _want to go back home. They'd just push me back into being the Slayer again. But I don't really know what I want to do with my life. When career day came around I laughed it off. No Slayer gets a career. I'd assumed I'd fight demons for the rest of my incredibly short life and die at twenty or something. But now I've got options, actual options. And I don't know what I want to do with them."

"You don' 'ave to do anythin' righ' away," Spike said. "You've got time. Make up your mind, find somethin' you wanna do and do it."

"And that's how you live, is it?"

"Doesn' always go so well, I admit. I think everythin' I did back in Sunnyhell, you got in the way."

"Sunnyhell." Buffy laughed. "I like it."

"Well, the rooms are paid for until the end of next week. I told 'em we migh' wanna keep 'em for longer, though. So you've got at least until then before you have to do somethin'."

"Well, right now I want a shower." Buffy pulled herself out of the bed. She'd slept in her clothes last night and that was never a good long-term move; they were all creased and horrible. She wondered if this was one of those really classy hotels that did their guests' laundry.

"I'll get outta your hair, then." Spike stood up. Buffy noticed he wasn't wearing his leather jacket, just a black tee and jeans. It looked good on him. Casual. And really, really hot.

_Stop that. Shut up. Bad thoughts!_

He smiled at her as he left again, leaving her flushed and fighting an inner battle.

The sucky thing was, she was losing.

_Moron! _she raged at herself. Swap one vampire for another. And to swap to one like Spike? No chance. She ought to smack her head on something nice and hard and knock those thoughts right out of her skull.

Actually, that wasn't the part that was _really _screwy. She already knew she had the capacity to go against her nature, and love a creature that was supposed to be her mortal - or immortal, whatever - enemy. She knew she could love a vampire.

The _really _screwy part was that _Spike _was caring for _her_.

Just declaring she wasn't the Slayer anymore shouldn't have stopped him from killing her. Gentleman or no - and _that _snippet of history was almost as crazy as the rest of it - she just _shouldn't _be alive right now. He wouldn't even have to actually do anything to ensure her death. Just leave open the door leading to the room he shared with Drusilla, wait for her to wake up and... no more Buffy.

Why was she alive? Why hadn't Spike killed her? He'd been perfectly willing to attack her before this whole thing - both as the Slayer and as a helpless girlie during Halloween. So he wasn't afraid of her strength... and he had no pity for the defenceless... what was his _deal_?

Buffy shook her head. This didn't really matter right now. She shouldn't be thinking about this at all. Whatever would happen, would happen. She'd seen enough prophecies and magic to believe in some form of fate. Right now, she needed a break, a long break, from whatever was bothering her.

And just because she'd swapped bother over giving up her life for bother over Spike didn't mean she didn't need a break.

She grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom, intending to shut the world outside and enjoy the world's longest shower.

That was a great plan, until Spike burst through the connecting door, tears pouring down his ravaged face, and collapsed with a scream of agony upon the floor.

"Spike!" She despised the terrified tone of voice as she fell to his side. "Spike, what's wrong?" Panicked, she looked up, checking for assailants in the room next door who could have jumped him. But there was no-one there. Nothing out of place, nothing strange... everything was exactly as it should be.

Except Spike, in a heap on the floor, seemingly torn between raging furiously and sobbing into the carpet.

"Dru..." The agonised whisper slid from his lips. "Dru's gone..." Slowly his struggles ceased and he just lay there, face-down, pressed into the thick carpet. Buffy had never seen anybody so obviously torn apart. Spike's face was twisted into pure anguish; the pain he was feeling struck at her soul.

Somehow she knew that nobody back in Sunnydale was crying like that over _her _disappearance... She'd seen them before she left, after all - well, and whole, and happy. And unconcerned. _She's gotta show up sooner or later. She'll be here in a while._

And compare that to Spike - Dru was gone, and it had practically destroyed him.

There was something awkward about crouching next to him, unsure whether offering comfort would be welcome or reviled. Buffy stood, hands tangling in the wreck of her hair, trying to pull that one thing into some semblance of order. A tie conveniently found on her wrist tied back the straggly ends, and she headed into Spike and Drusilla's room to... look for clues, she supposed. Feeling a bit like Sherlock Holmes, she crossed through the doorway.

Unlike her, they hadn't packed for travel - Spike's leather coat and a wrap she assumed was Drusilla's were the only items of clothing in the room. The bed was neat but rumpled, the windows closed, curtains drawn. She peeked into the bathroom; nothing there whatsoever. She doubted either vampire had been in there. Buffy sighed, annoyed. Her good intentions frustrated, she couldn't go back to Spike and point to where his lady-love had gone. Drusilla had just vanished into thin air. Or maybe...

Buffy scanned the floor for any heaps of ash that Drusilla might have dusted into, but the floor, too, was clean. Buffy punched the squishy carpet angrily, but without any weight behind it. Still it creaked slightly ominously. She turned back to the doorway. Spike hadn't moved; still curled in a ball, tears slipping down his face.

How could Drusilla have so much hold over him? Buffy knew she didn't have all the answers, but from what Angel had told her previously, and Spike just yesterday - or maybe the day before, her sense of time was shot to hell - Drusilla was hardly faithful, more sympathetic to Angelus, and if she felt anything for Spike it was nowhere near on par with his feelings. At Hemery, Buffy had had girlfriends who discovered their partners didn't feel for them - either the girls felt equally nothing, and continued with the meaningless relationship, or felt too strongly to hold it up on their own, and dumped the guy. She herself had worried for days about whether Angel felt what she did, and knew that she wouldn't have kept following him around if he didn't. The second she'd had proof his heart wasn't in it, she'd have been out of there.

Why did Spike keep hanging on to somebody who obviously - maybe - didn't want to be held?

"Something's wrong here," she said aloud. The words felt strange, like they hadn't come from her; but they kept flowing out, and the more she listened to herself talk, the more she agreed. "This isn't right. Can you even imagine this happening? Slayer meets vampire and it doesn't lead to stakeage?"

Spike's head lifted from the carpet and turned in her direction, some of what she felt mirrored on his face. Something _was _wrong, something was out of place.

"I mean, we should not be here! Think about it! We've been enemies for months and suddenly we put that all behind us and rent a hotel room together - sort of? I willingly get in the car with you - and you offer me a ride? Puh-lease! This _cannot_ be happening! I mean, yeah, I give up being a Slayer, I guess I wouldn't really stake you on first sight, but no _way _should I be thinking about how hot you are!"

Okay, now she was getting into trouble. Spike looked faintly offended and complimented at the same time. But whatever had a hold of her wasn't going to let her escape with dignity intact.

"And seriously, thinking about being in love with you? No chance! Why is my brain not working? And now, just as we're starting to get friendly, Drusilla disappears - thus removing the greatest obstacle between us? - not that there is any us, mind-"

Her pause for breath gave Spike time to interject - "You're thinkin' about _what_?" - she switched tracks, started thinking about what he'd said, and she shut up. Just like that, it was gone; leaving a massive rush of embarrassment that decided this was a good time for some self-expression.

"Oh God, what the hell was that?" She ran a hand over her face, feeling her skin beginning to flush scarlet. "That was... wasn't me talking, well not really, it was like I just couldn't stop... and I wasn't thinking _any _of that. Well, okay, I was thinking about you being hot, but I wasn't going to say anything."

Spike wasn't saying anything either, although he had picked himself up off the carpet and was sprawled in a pose not dissimilar to hers. Buffy dropped her head, staring at the floor, wishing she'd left her hair untied so it could cover her face.

Now, what had just happened? It had felt a bit like when she'd been possessed at the high school and forced to play out the scene the ghosts wanted, but everything she'd said had come from inside her - she just hadn't had a lock on it. And now she thought about it, it made sense - why had she gotten in the car with Spike? Why was she suddenly okay with him, and he with her? She hadn't thought about it before, though; everything had seemed completely okay and normal.

"This is not normal," Spike agreed slowly. "Why'm I not drinkin' from your corpse right now? Why 'aven't I torn out your throat jus' 'cause I can?"

"And even knowing that you want to, why am I not afraid of you?"

"I _don' _want to, Buffy. That's the problem! I don' want you dead and I don' know _why_!"

"And I don't care! I don't care that _I'm_ here with _you_, it just seems... it's not normal, but it's not wrong, either."

"It's not wrong," Spike whispered against her skin. Buffy hadn't noticed they'd been inching towards each other until they were face to face, hands touching in mid-air, fingers wrapped down like they were afraid to let go. "There's no wrong 'ere, Buffy." Slowly he pulled her forward; she pushed herself into him, folding gracefully into his body like it was made for her. His skin was soothing and cool against hers, burning with feeling for him. This was the only place she wanted to be, curled around him, the world locked outside their embrace. His hands ran through her hair, the tie gone, fingers trailing through the ends.

"_Buffy_..."

It woke her up like a bucket of ice water. "Spike, what are we doing? What are we doing?" Again came that signal, something was wrong, this had to stop. But why should she stop when she wanted this so much? It hurt to push away from him - the regret in his eyes pierced her like thorns, but it was nothing compared to the anguish she felt at parting from him. "There _is _wrong, Spike, _this _is wrong! I'm not this kind of girl, the get-snuggly-on-the-floor-with-a-guy-I-hardly-know girl, and just two seconds ago you were all upset over Drusilla!"

His eyes seemed to focus on her face. "She doesn' matter... Holy Christ, what am I sayin'?" He forced himself upwards and away from her, retreating further into the room, before dropping back against the wall out of exhaustion. Buffy felt like he'd just chopped off one of her limbs, she wanted him _back..._

She smacked her forehead, hard, to focus herself. It didn't work, she still wanted to rush across the room and fling herself on him, press into his skin until they fused into one body... Now _that _was gross. She hadn't even thought like this about Angel...

That killed her feelings, hard. His face swam across her vision, blocking out Spike's hunched body, filling her instead with sorrow and sadness. Now, instead of jumping Spike, she wanted to quietly cry herself to sleep. It was definitely an improvement.

It was time to get serious and realise that something was really messed up. This wasn't about them after all. Something _else _had to be doing this. Buffy knew that a week ago she wouldn't have wanted any of this, and she wouldn't even if she was forced. She didn't feel that way now, but that was because of whatever was going on. If it would just leave her alone for a minute, and she could slap some sense into herself, everything would be fine.

But she didn't want to be _fine_. She wanted to be with Spike, even now, even knowing that this wasn't really them. There was something controlling her, pushing her into it, but she was willing to be pushed. She _wanted _to be pushed, wanted to be held, loved, so much...

Spike's breathing echoed across the room to her, testament to the struggle he was fighting inside himself. She could envisage it, Drusilla on the one hand, his love for a century, and Buffy on the other, here, now, willing... His gaze lifted, eyes clashing onto hers.

"Do you 'ave _any _idea 'ow 'ard it is to keep away from you?" he croaked, bent over, hands clutching at the floor. "Jus' seein' you, I wanna go straight over an' shag you till you can't walk anymore..."

Buffy knew she should have blushed, but she wanted that too, she didn't need to walk anywhere, Spike was here... "Me too," she whispered. "Can't be without you."

"Buffy..."

Suddenly the space between them was gone, and there was only him, only his hands worshipping her skin, the fabric separating them rapidly vanishing, leaving only a perfect fusion of harmony. Fire and ice blurred into each other, her burning skin flowing into his, chilled, melting together everywhere. Her feelings soared to new heights, flying eternities above them as they held each other, getting closer and closer...

"We need to _stop_," Spike gasped in between frenzied, blissful kisses.

"I know, but I _can't_..."

"Hit me. Buffy, hit me, knock me out. Now!"

"Spike..."

"Nothin's gonna 'appen if I'm out of it, Buffy. Now!"

She couldn't resist his voice. Before she knew it, her fist was shooting forward, catching him in the nose, knocking him backward. He wobbled, unsteady for a second, offered her a thin smile, and crashed to the floor.

"Spike..." She choked and laid down beside him, cuddling into his side, skin on bare skin. She had no idea where her shirt or her pants were, and didn't care; all she wanted was to lie here beside Spike and deal with everything later. For now, there was this.

_Two days ago_

Willow laid the pack of matches by her side and faced the semi-circle of candles, arced around a complex rune drawn in her carpet with red chalk. She took a deep breath and let the practiced words of the spell flow from her lips, an unusual mix of Latin and Babylonian. Her head ached from the bump on her noggin, but the magic going through her was peaceful, and felt restorative even if that wasn't its purpose. Rosy sunset crept into the room between the curtains. It was strange to think that Buffy had saved the world only this morning.

Willow figured Buffy wasn't in a good place right now. Her friend had to be in pain; either something had gone wrong, or everything had just become too much for her. Even if Angel had somehow made it, maybe Buffy had been injured in the fight. And whatever else had happened, Kendra - the only girl in the world who was like Buffy - was dead. It must feel like discovering you had a long-lost twin, only for them to die before you could get to know each other.

Willow sighed. It didn't really matter what was happening. Maybe everything was just fine after all, and Buffy didn't need her help. But even then, this spell couldn't hurt. The ritualised phrases kept coming, the flames of the candles slowly turning a pale pink under the magic's influence. This spell would fix whatever was broken, or simply polish what was already whole. Nothing could go wrong.

The spell's guidelines finished, the final ancient word spoken, Willow let her hands climb above her. Hands flat out, palms towards the ceiling, she spoke her command.

"Wherever Buffy is, whoever she's with, let her be happy, and love, and loved."


	5. Control

Everybody was tense and nervous this morning. Buffy still hadn't shown up, not even a phone class; neither had Angel; Buffy's mom was going spare over it; and the enormity of what had happened to them was just begging to hit.

Willow had called a lost soul from the under-realms and (probably) restored it to its host. That kind of magic, despite its healing effect, was dark and destructive. Having that kind of power channelling through you was terrifying, and oddly compelling.

Xander had been in the room when Kendra was killed and Giles was kidnapped, and was battling a vicious combination of survivor's guilt and depression.

Cordelia was ashamed of how easily she had run away, without even checking to see if her friends were following her. Despite everybody telling her it was the right decision, nobody else had run.

Giles's wounds still stuck out starkly against his pale skin, but even more scarring was what had happened on the inside. Seeing Jenny again - even like that - had rattled him more than he would admit. And, despite his high ideals and intent, he'd told the vampires what they wanted to know.

Oz was the only one who didn't appear to be damaged by what had happened, but his solidity had made him the support of all the others. Their conversations with him inevitably ended in confessions of a sort; a need to get it all out to _someone_. Between helping the others and his total dedication to Willow, the stress had to crack even him sooner or later.

All in all, it was seriously a morning for donuts.

Willow brushed the last crumbs of a cinnamon ring from her lips and sucked the sugar off her finger. A glance around the table showed everybody else enjoying the goodness, actually smiling and joking for the first time in what felt like months. Willow's hand returned to the somewhat greasy box in the centre and selected a strawberry frosted. Things could be almost normal if not for...

Her eye fell on the chair at the end of the library table. Somebody had draped a black scarf over the back (probably Cordelia, judging by the quality and style), casually enough to be ignored by passing students but sombre enough for the group present.

By now they knew Buffy wouldn't be coming back to school when she turned up. Snyder's disgustingly gleeful announcement at assembly had been taken very badly by the student body. Buffy was fairly popular among the upper crowd, and surprisingly kind to the lower, and the entire school actually booed Snyder off the stage. It earned most, if not all, a detention, but as far as Willow knew everybody considered it worthwhile. She wondered how they'd have reacted if they knew Buffy had saved the world, and been expelled for her trouble.

Willow finished her third, possibly fourth, donut and decided that was enough sugar therapy. She would dearly love some _actual _therapy, but if she let any counsellor about her experiences she'd end up in the loony bin. All of them would. Willow honestly felt that deserved a break, but with Buffy's whereabouts in doubt, she knew they wouldn't get one.

"I tried a spell a few nights ago," Willow said into the silence. "For Buffy. A general happiness spell." She left out the component of love that she'd mixed in. That was between Buffy and Angel, and her, sort of, but she'd keep her mouth shut. "I thought it might make things better, she'd come back sooner or something. And I'm sure it worked, but she's still not back."

"Maybe she's so _happy _where she is she doesn't need to come back," Xander said gloomily. He was doing a lot of that lately. "And besides, school is not the best place for happiness."

"I was reading a book and I found a spell that could be useful," Giles said. He opened one of the dusty volumes beside him and pushed it across to Willow. "A location spell, a basic one, but enough for our needs."

She snatched the book with none of her usual reverence - and things were so out of balance that Giles didn't chide her - and scanned the page.

"Yes, yes, I can do this! Easy! Giles, why didn't you think of this before?"

"Well, that's the question, isn't it. There's a lot of obvious things floating around that I don't spot." He pushed back from the table and headed for his office.

"Oops. I didn't think that could mean Jenny."

"It's okay, Will, he'll get over it. So this spell, it'll help us find Buffy?"

"Yep. I just need to go shopping and we can do it after school."

* * *

Buffy's heart leapt as Spike's eyelids fluttered. She grabbed his hand tightly, feeling his fingers twitch in her grip. His eyes opened slowly, blue orbs fogged and unfocused.

"Spike?"

"Bleedin' 'ell, Buffy, I didn' mean hit me that 'ard."

Buffy grinned, relieved she hadn't done any serious damage. "You're obviously fine."

"Not quite, actually. The spell or whatever, it's still around."

"I know, I can feel it." Charging through her blood, driving her every thought, her pulse humming his name. Somehow it was easier to resist, now that she was aware she could. If things got intense again she could knock Spike out fairly neatly. And while her heart wanted nothing more than to finish what they'd started, her head knew that if she was in control of herself she wouldn't. Her heart wasn't hers at the moment.

She quashed the stray thought that claimed her heart belonged to Spike.

"We need to break whatever's controlling us," Buffy said.

"Very, very much agreed." He tugged his hand from her grasp and sat up. Buffy could hardly believe it was a struggle to avert her eyes from his bare - and _stunning _- chest. Just as abruptly she realised she was down to her underwear. She could feel herself blushing scarlet as she hunted down her pants and shirt, but couldn't bring herself to complain about Spike's appreciative eyes on her. Too large a part of her was enjoying it.

The clothes she currently had were still the ones from the day she'd left, and after wearing them for days, they were way too disgusting to put back on. In fact, she badly needed a shower. She grabbed her entire bag and took it into the massive bathroom.

Under the massaging jets of hot water, Buffy let her mind relax and tried to sort out what was happening.

Fact - something, probably magical, was forcing her and Spike together.

Fact - she didn't feel anything for Spike when not being controlled by the spell.

Probable fact - this spell was so strong it had gotten rid of Drusilla.

Biggest fact of all - it had to be _stopped_.

Buffy ran a second handful of shampoo through her hair. All in all, it wasn't much to go on. If she'd been with her friends, they'd crack open the research books, Willow or Giles might try some kind of protection spell to cut out the effects of the love spell - or whatever - but most importantly she'd have the support of people who cared about her. Right now it was just her and Spike.

Not, whatever the spell wanted her to believe, the dream team.

Well, he at least had the decency not to come in while she was showering. She could feel the tug of longing anchored in her heart; a heart that had absolutely no issues about having him under the water with her. But she shoved her heart aside once again, glad that Spike was doing the same thing.

She supposed it was easier for him to keep away from her - he had somebody out there for him. Whatever else happened, he would be back in Drusilla's arms. Buffy had nobody there for her. Angel was dead at her hand - and when the spell was over she'd feel sorry, horrified even, but right now it was just something that had had to be done.

With a sigh of regret, Buffy turned the water off. Somehow she had to deal with what was happening now. Plus, she was starving. Hopefully this hotel had a restaurant somewhere. Getting room service seemed a bit risky. Putting space between the two of them was probably the best thing they could do.

Dressed and blow-dried, she opened the door and surprised Spike, who had been leaning in, ear pressed to the wood. They fell in a heap on the tiles. Buffy thrilled with having him so near again. She met him in a fiery kiss, her skin searing with his cold touch.

"I was... going out..." she gasped as his lips traced the curve of her collarbone. She was glad that she'd picked the sluttiest shirt she'd brought. Then she was annoyed.

"Good idea," Spike grunted. "Door."

Buffy lost track of how they managed to get to the door leading to the corridor; somehow she ended up with her back against it, one hand fumbling for the doorknob, the other running down Spike's neck. Heart pounding, blood rushing, she pushed down on the handle and popped backwards out of the room. Spike, showing uncommon sense, had braced himself on the walls on either side, so she stumbled outside but he didn't follow. They both grabbed at the door and slammed it shut. Buffy had never had such difficulty in getting out of a room. Sure, she was used to Slaying the undead, or fighting her way through crowds at the Bronze, but she'd never been making out with somebody in this uncomfortable do/don't. This spell was seriously starting to get on her nerves. Somehow, she had to stop it. But nothing would be accomplished on an empty stomach.

Slowly, every step an effort, she walked into the elevator.

* * *

Willow watched attentively as Xander lit the last candle and stepped back. She put out her hand and Cordelia laid a large folded map of the US in it. Slowly, whispering the charm under her breath, she sprinkled it with yellow sand before unfolding it and placing it in the middle of the circle of candles.

"Nothing's happening," Xander said, irritably. "Isn't there supposed to be a giant 'Buffy is here' sign appearing right about now?"

"I haven't actually performed the spell yet. I just blessed the map, so when I do the actual spell in a minute, it'll show up here. Somebody pass the cat intestines."

Oz handed her a small, sealed bag of what looked like a cross between string and uncooked spaghetti.

"_That's _cat intestine? It doesn't look nearly gross enough," Cordelia said, face screwed up in disgust.

"I sacrificed one of my parents' squash rackets," said Xander.

Cordelia turned faintly green. "If that means what I _think _it does, I am never playing squash again."

"Most rackets use synthetic strings, now. My parents are traditionalists. Stick with cheap rackets and you'll be fine."

Cordelia looked like she couldn't decide which was worse, cheap or cat rackets.

"Guys, I need to focus. No more talking. Besides, I'm the one who has to touch these." Willow reached inside the bag and pulled out the strings, rubbed them with oil and set them alight. Before the fire traveled all the way along, she kept a grip on the ends and arranged the strings on the floor beside the map. By the end, she had an odd-looking cross made of burning, oil-soaked squash racket strings, next to a map with sand over it, all inside a ring of candles. She felt that magic still ought to be more glamourous, but as long as it found Buffy she didn't really care what it looked like.

She lifted the paper with the spell written down on it, lighting it quickly from each candle before dropping the half-burnt paper onto the flaming strings. A blue light appeared over the map, glowing softly. It started in the centre, hovering over Missouri before slowly working westward. It circled around central California, shifting. Nobody said anything as it drifted to LA and stayed there, pulsing softly.

Finally Oz broke the silence. "Surely if she was with Angel, they wouldn't have gone so far for privacy. Out of Sunnydale, maybe. Halfway across the state seems a bit extreme."

"I think her father lives in LA," Willow said as the blue light finally died. "Maybe she's staying with him."

"I hope so."

"Buffy's strong. She can take care of herself. And at least we know she's alive, right?"

"Yeah, the light pulsed, that was her heart, so..." Willow glanced up to her friends' faces. "I wanna do it again." Oz stretched out a hand to help her stand but nobody else moved. Of course, Giles hadn't moved in hours. She might have thought he was dead if he didn't keep spouting British swear words when he thought nobody was paying attention. "Think about it! If we used the right map we could get an address, and visit her, or at least send a letter."

"But Will, where are we going to find a street map of LA?"

Willow gave Xander her 'you're an 'idiot' look. "This is a _library_. There'll be one."

But it was dark outside by the time Giles finally found a suitable map, having been roused by the prospect of discovering Buffy's exact location. It had, however, given Xander and Oz time to get back from Xander's place with the strings of another racket. Willow promised herself that as soon as Buffy was home and safe, she'd buy the Harrises two brand new, super-dooper rackets.

She went through the spell again, carefully, the inked words still damp on the paper. They waited with baited breath as the light, green this time, fluttered along the mapped streets. It wove through the overdeveloped freeway system before dropping off near the airport.

"There's loads of hotels around there," Cordelia said softly. "I bet she's in one of those."

The light stopped and hopped off the road. Willow could feel her heart thumping in her throat. They'd found her. Buffy was right there, now, so close.

Willow focused her energy on the spell. If some part of it had found Buffy, maybe she could tap into it and see something. Her eyes closed and she let her mind drift. There - a fan-shaped glow extending outward. She dropped down onto the glow and let it snag her consciousness, carried along like it was a river. Somewhere at the other end was Buffy.

* * *

Buffy had never eaten so much food at once. This seemed to be a week for 'never's being broken. Happily stuffed, she pushed back from the table and breathed in deeply. Everything was finally slotting into place. Things were still hairy between her and Spike, but now they had a couple of defences. She could knock him unconscious - or vice versa - or she could just walk away. This hotel had a swimming pool on the roof; she should go up sometime during the day and trust to the sunlight. There was sure to be plenty of that in LA.

Despite everything she knew she should have been feeling, she actually thought this was one of the happiest times of her life. Great food, full nights of sleep and total relaxation. Even the can't-keep-off-Spike thing wasn't that big of a deal. For was thing, he was gorgeous; for another, he was a _great _kisser. And he was a lot closer to Buffy-sized: she didn't break her neck backwards trying to kiss him like she'd had to with Angel.

Buffy stood up uncertainly, her centre of balance actually shifted by the massive dinner she'd eaten. She'd put her meal on her room's tab, figuring Spike would pick it up. Especially since he was crazy about her. Buffy grinned. That was an unexpected upside. She imagined linking her arm through his and going shopping.

Upstairs, she swiped her key-card and let herself back in. Spike was still on her side of the adjoining door; the sight of him sent a vibrant, but manageable, thrill through her before she saw him properly.

Curled up in a ball, head down, in the corner of the room.

She flew to his side and wrapped her arms around him. "You okay?" He had to be okay. She couldn't take it if he wasn't okay.

His head lifted, eyes meeting hers. He was ridiculously, impossibly pale, face sunken, eyes dull. She knew he was a vampire, but he'd never looked like a _corpse. _

"Hungry," he croaked, voice thin. "Forgot las' night, and then with everythin'... left it too lon'."

Buffy didn't think before offering up her wrist. Problem solved. "Drink."

Spike leaned away, obviously fighting himself. "Buffy... don' wanna hurt you."

"I'll be fine. I'm strong and I just ate. Besides, I know you'd never hurt me."

That was enough. His face shifted to the fascinatingly ugly vampiric exterior and he bit down hard.

Pain laced her arm, but it was secondary to the exciting thrill of her blood rushing into him. It was like she could feel her blood coursing through his body. She felt it working its way, fighting against the lack of a pulse. For just a minute, they felt like one person. It was a wonderful feeling, and when compounded with her earlier happiness and the present lightheadedness from the blood loss, it created something greater. This was surely the best single moment in her life.

Ever.

* * *

Willow couldn't decide whether she was moving or not. On the one hand, she could feel the magic getting stronger, but on the other there was no wind, no movement, to indicate her motion. She was curious, and highly interested, and wanted to learn more about whatever it was she'd done, but finding Buffy was more important. She had to get to the end of the fan and Buffy would be there.

Whether she was actually moving or not, the distance was slowly vanishing. She could feel Buffy out there, a warm,golden radiance. Patches of it started to appear along the fan. She crossed over into one of the patches and suddenly she knew that Buffy was happy, and warm, and safe. All of which was of the good, but Willow wanted more. Where was Angel? Where they together? She kept going, and tried to bring the information to her. She formed an image of Buffy in her mind and opened herself to the magic. She didn't force or direct it, just let it whisper what it wanted.

She was in a hotel. She was wearing jeans. She'd gotten heaps of sleep, and felt perkier than usual. She'd eaten recently, really luxury restaurant food. Something was wrong with her arm. Willow blinked and snapped out of Buffy's head. Something was hurting her arm, but she wasn't afraid of it or fighting against it? It had hurt quite a bit, too.

"I want to see," Willow said aloud, and the magic obeyed. She blinked, and she could see Buffy. Only Buffy, none of her surroundings, but it was Buffy. She was talking to somebody, laughing, smiling. She looked blissful. There was none of the keyed-up tension that she carried even among her friends. The Buffy that Willow knew seemed to expect a vampire attack every second. The Buffy she saw now had none of that alarm. Buffy glanced down along her arm; Willow followed her gaze and shock jolted her, almost tearing the magic from her tenuous grasp. Buffy's wrist was bleeding, and the blood was gushing up before vanishing from Willow's sight.

What the hell? Something was draining Buffy's blood and she was happy about it? This was getting weirder and weirder.

"Who's with her? Show me!"

The magic warped, and fluttered, and pushed back the edges of her vision to reveal -

Spike, just lifting his head from Buffy's wound, her blood shining bright on his fangs. His bumpies receded, leaving his human visage. He bent his head closer to Buffy's and whispered something. Willow heard nothing but understood the concern he felt. He was sucking her blood and he felt sorry for her? And Buffy was letting him? Willow focused, searching outwards. There wasn't a stake, a cross or holy water near her. She was completely vulnerable and Spike wasn't taking advantage?

Then, through whatever magic was connecting her to Buffy, Willow felt love.

She was stunned she hadn't noticed it before, it was so strong. And it came from both of them. Buffy and Spike were in love? Alien as that was, it still seemed familiar somehow. Something about it, about that love...

Oh no. Oh _God_, this was bad. Very, very, bad.

It was her spell. The spell she'd cast on Buffy to make her happy and loved. Willow had thought her friend was with Angel at the time, but if she'd been with Spike instead...

_Wherever Buffy is, whoever she's with, let her be happy, and love, and loved._

She'd forced her best friend to fall in love with Spike.

Willow's control snapped - the magic rushed - her eyes flew open in the school library. Faces surrounded her, voices demanding to know what had happened to her.

"I went to see Buffy - sort of - through the locator spell - no, I don't know how, it just happened... and I have some really bad news."

Their reaction was about as bad as she'd expected. Giles was especially angry - everybody else wanted to go stake Spike and rescue Buffy - but Giles made a point of blaming her. And yeah, it was her fault, but she'd meant good. She'd thought Buffy and Angel were together, and that after Angel's evil twin thing, they could use a bit of magical help. She'd never imagined Buffy could be with anyone else.

"Just break the spell, Will. Undo it. _Pop_."

"It's not that easy, Xander. It's complicated." That was true, if not completely honest. Willow had already reexamined the spell and knew she could remove it, and she knew that Buffy could take care of herself if she and Spike snapped back to being mortal enemies and tried to kill each other. The question was, _should _she undo it? Buffy was happy with Spike, Willow knew that. And there was no debate over the happiness - or lack thereof - in Buffy's life. Superpowers or not, Slaying was a cheerless business. Did Willow have the right to take away what little joy Buffy had?

Then again, there was Angel in the picture. If he was around, but Buffy had run off with Spike instead, Willow couldn't imagine the pain that would cause him.

But if that had happened, why hadn't he come to Buffy's friends for help?

Willow's head ached.

"Thing is, should we undo the spell if Buffy's so happy? She never gets to be happy here, not _really _happy. Whole world on her shoulders. With Spike, she's really happy. I felt it, it was so strong..."

"It's a lie," Giles said harshly, so angry his hands were shaking too much to polish his glasses. "It's sick and twisted and I don't care how happy she is, you're going to make it stop."

Willow sighed. She disagreed, Buffy deserved whatever Willow could give her, but Giles wasn't going to take no for an answer. She'd better accept it.

By this time tomorrow, the spell would be broken.


	6. Undone

Somebody was calling her name. It floated just outside her awareness, like she knew about it but couldn't actually notice it there. Buffy knew this feeling all too well - the first ten minutes after regaining consciousness were always pretty weird. Quite a few times after fights she'd won, she'd dropped flat from exhaustion. And after her return from death, actual death, she'd felt rather like this. She'd be fine in a few minutes, but for now her brain had been replaced with bubble bath.

"I can't hear you," said Buffy, even though it wasn't quite true. It was mostly true, which was important. She blinked her eyes open and saw the blurry ceiling, lights standing out. "Also I can't see."

"Buffy, c'mon, stop scarin' me."

Spike was scared. It made her smile. It was so rare, she wanted to film it to get proof. She'd heard him more clearly though, which was good, and could now focus on his face with minimal effort. "I'm fine, really." She pushed herself upwards; her head swam and she dropped back down. The floor bounced underneath her. No, not the floor, the bed: Spike had tucked her in. She had to get out of the habit of sleeping in awkward places, fully clothed.

"I'm gonna get you some water," Spike said, stroking the back of her hand. His cool fingers sent thrills up her arm. "I'll be back in jus' a minute."

Buffy didn't care about water, she wanted him to stay with her. She didn't want to be alone. Her fingers tried to wrap around his but even with her Slayer strength to compensate, she was weaker than a baby. She felt empty with him gone. They'd found this love together and they shouldn't keep separating. How could a spell create something that felt so right? Maybe it was just the two of them, after all. Besides, less than a week ago she'd given up everything important in her life. She didn't think she could bear to do that again.

Buffy had always lived in the now, and right now she was happy and in love with a gorgeous, brave guy who loved her back. Who would want that to change?

Spike returned with a glass of water; just the sight of him crossing the room lifted her heart. He set the glass down on the table and lifted her up to lean against the headboard. Her vision drifted for a second, but the dizzy spell passed and she managed to drink the water slowly.

"I'm so sorry," Spike whispered as he took the empty glass. "I shouldn't've taken so much from you..."

"Hey, no worries," Buffy said, perky enough to smile. How could he blame himself when he'd been dying - figuratively - and she'd volunteered in the first place? "It's just like donating blood, right? You need it, just like those sick people who get tran... transfu..." Okay, so her brain wasn't a hundred percent yet, but to be honest she probably didn't know this word even at her peak. "People who get blood put in them because they're sick and they need it to get better. It's just like that. Besides, I'm fine. I've got you to take care of me."

A smile split his face at that; it seemed to light up the whole room. It was good to see him smile, and better to know that she was the reason for it.

Head aching, Buffy lay back against the mound of pillows Spike had built up behind her. She reached out a hand and wrapped her fingers around his. "I'm glad you're with me."

He smiled again and took both her hands in his. "Me too, pet."

* * *

Buffy lost track of time passing, just sitting there with Spike beside her. They didn't say anything; nothing needed to be said. There was just the two of them, sharing the quiet.

So it was one hell of a surprise when the phone rang.

Loud and jarring, the ring shocked them out of their moment. Buffy pulled herself up, intending to answer it; gently but firmly, Spike pushed her back down and went to answer it himself. Her imagination fired at his touch, those cool, strong hands...

"'ello?"

Even across the room, Buffy could identify the caller's voice.

Willow.

Panic gripped her. How had Willow found them?

"Spike, what is it? What's she saying?"

Spike, face hollow, turned to her slowly, like he'd forgotten she was there. "'s Willow," he said unnecessarily. "Says there's a spell keepin' us together."

"Yeah, well, we knew that. What else-"

"An' she cast it."

"Oh." _Willow _had done this? Why? And how? Sure, her friend had some pretty powerful magic in her, but could she really turn Buffy and Spike from enemies to lovers? Well, apparently she had. Buffy didn't want to know. She needed this to be real. She couldn't just turn around and lose it all again, not everything she'd found with Spike...

"Buffy!" Before she knew it, she was sobbing, great, racking cries ripping through her. Spike dropped the phone and clutched her to his chest. She grabbed at his arms, trying to find something solid to hold on to. If she held on enough, they couldn't take him away. His voice whispered soothingly against her ear. "It's fine, it's okay, I promise, it's all okay..."

"I need to see her," Buffy spluttered, forcing her tears aside. "I need to... go... explain..." Hiccups shot through her words, turning her incoherent.

Thank god for vampire hearing, thank god that Spike understood anyway. "You wanna go back?"

"I have to, don't you see? If they know where I am they'll bring me back anyway, but if I tell them, if they know that I can't, maybe they'll let me go."

"If tha's wha' you want, pet."

It was so far from what she wanted that she thought she would start crying again. She just wanted to be left alone with Spike, to not worry about anything else going on. She didn't want people lurking over her shoulder, hands reaching out to bring her back. More than anything, she wanted this to be about the two of them and what they shared.

But two years of Slaying had taught Buffy that she never got what she wanted.

"I've got to. I have to go back."

* * *

Buffy had never wished more sincerely to be going in the opposite direction. Even in the move from LA to Sunnydale two years ago, she'd felt some curiosity, some interest, in her new home. Walking into fights and battles was always nerve-wracking, but thrilling at the same time. It was something that had to be done, and she had to admit she enjoyed fighting. But there was no good in where she was going now.

How could her friends understand that she wanted to be with Spike? They'd tell her it was all because of the spell, and she'd feel better when they broke it. But as far as she was concerned, this was as good as it got. She'd given up the Slaying - she'd gotten full nights of sleep, eaten as much as she wanted, done nothing, and it had been wonderful. It was nice to have no homework and actually enjoy the way she spent her days. And she was in love.

Spike was amazing. He looked stunning, he was strong, surprisingly moral for a vampire, and really cared about her. But she was terrified that without the spell, there would be nothing. She'd love an easy answer, like "Oh, it only used feelings that were already there! You two _do_ love each other, and the spell brought it to the surface!" but she knew it wouldn't come. Everything she wanted would come to an end, she and Spike would fight or something, punches, kicks, whatever, one of them would flee, clutching an injury, and they'd never see each other again. How could it end like this? She wanted to be loved so much. Why couldn't it simply stop here? Sitting in the car with him was nice. The masculine scent of him filled the air, his hand held hers when he wasn't using it to drive, every so often he'd look over to her and smile reassuringly. Why couldn't they simply stay in this car and drive, forever?

And sure, it wasn't perfect. They were still leery of the really physical stuff, the hot-and-naked stuff, still saying that they didn't want _that _part of the spell, but they had enough self-control to consider themselves safe. But Buffy's feelings were unbound, and they wanted to soar.

She didn't want this to end. But it would. If she didn't come, she knew they'd undo the spell behind her back. She'd be sitting with Spike, happy, one second; the next, flying into combat with her mortal enemy.

A sign flashed past, too fast to read, but Buffy knew what it said. Her hands clenched together, knuckles going white.

"Your 'eart rate jus' about doubled," Spike said, concern etched in his face. "You're tha' scared?"

"Terrified," Buffy confessed. "I'm not usually scared of anything, I just grab my stake and go into the fight, but I guess I can't fight back against this. If they want to break the spell, then they will, and I don't want to lose you..."

"Me neither," he whispered. His hand covered both of hers, strength pouring into her through the contact. She sucked at it hungrily, needing every shred she could get. "They can't take this away, really, they can't."

"But it's all just a spell, in the end, doesn't that worry you? I'm only happy because Willow did a spell, I only love you because of the spell... maybe there is nothing real here?"

"If there's nothing here, we'll make it. We'll get together after they break it and start again. We can do that, I promise. I want to love you, Buffy, I want to have every single part of you I can touch. I want you to be mine."

"I want that too, I really do, but..."

"No more buts. We'll be fine. Hold on to that." His smile quirked at her. She felt her heart slowing down again, relaxing out of its panic. She shouldn't be so afraid of this, but she was.

One way or another, it would all be over soon.

* * *

"BUFFY!"

In a whirl, Willow and Xander threw themselves on her as she pushed through the library doors. She almost dropped to the floor under the combined pressure. They enclosed her completely, blocking her view of the world, blocking her air supply. For a second she held them back, only then realising how much she had missed them. She needed her friends, and they'd together make this alright. They always did.

A snarl from behind her broke her concentration and, without thinking, she spun and kicked the cross from Giles's extended hand. Spike flinched back from the wood and Giles snapped away from her. She glanced back to make sure Spike was unharmed, then back to Giles. "_Don't _try me."

Giles looked shocked and saddened. She felt her mood dipping even further. She hadn't meant to greet him by attacking him, but threatening Spike like that had crossed a line, a line she hadn't known she'd drawn.

"Willow," she said, turning, interrupting Willow's ceaseless questions. "Spell. Talk."

Caught off balance, Willow stammered for a second before regaining her control. "Um, when you disappeared after the fight we figured that Angel was either dead or alive. If he was alive, you were together and everything was good, and if he was dead then I thought you would need cheering up. So I cast a little happy love spell, figuring that it couldn't go wrong. If you were together, it would just make everything a bit shinier, and if he was dead you'd feel better. I expected it to mean that you'd keep loving Angel even though he was gone, I didn't think it would just grab the nearest person... What happened?"

"I dunno. I was walking out of town, missed the bus by about two seconds, not really caring about anything. Spike drove by, stopped, got out of the car. And that was when it started getting weird. We just talked, a lot, stuff that was really important to me, really, and he just sat there and listened."

Her friends' faces went glummer and glummer as she kept talking. Spike crept up and took her hand as she faltered near the end. She squeezed it tightly, feeling like that support was the only thing keeping her on her feet.

"Well, that's over now, and you're safe. Willow will undo the spell, and-"

"No! _No_, Giles, haven't you been listening? I don't _want_ the spell undone. Don't any of you get that we're happy? Actually happy?" She reran her story quickly and spotted some massive holes. She hadn't told them she'd quit being the Slayer, and she hadn't told them Angel was dead. And she thought she'd been clear that she was happy, but apparently that hadn't gotten through. None of it had. "Angel died. I didn't get to him in time, the portal opened, stab-stab. And then I went home, packed my stuff, and left. I wasn't thinking too clearly, I just needed some space. But I decided I was sick of it, sick of saving the world. I officially quit, Giles. I'm not the Slayer anymore. It's too much for me." She didn't let Giles interrupt her, though he clearly wanted to. Everybody else was silent, hanging on her words. "I just didn't care about anything. _Anything_. And then Willow's spell came through, and I found something to live for." She looked up into Spike's eyes, smiling down at her, so strong. "How can you take this away from me?"

"Because it's wrong." Giles finally found his voice and exploited her pause for breath. "This is not like your love for Angel. That was natural, on your own, and he had a soul. _This... _creature... got me to tell Angelus how to wake Acathla."

"I did _what_?" Spike exploded. "Bloody 'ell, grat-i-tude! _I _stopped Angel beating the crap outta you, _I _told him to keep you alive after you spilled! You're only 'ere because of me! You woulda told 'im eventually, for sure, Angel's a bloody persuasive bastard. _I'm _the reason your internal organs didn' get rearranged into alphabetical order!"

Giles shouted something back, then Xander joined in, and then everybody was yelling at each other. Buffy clapped her hands over her ears to block out the sound and backed away from the crowd. It looked ready to come to blows any minute. She could practically see the sparks flying out. Fear welled up in her, she didn't want to see this, couldn't handle it on top of everything else that was happening...

...spell, love, Spike, Giles, everything was in conflict. Was this real or only a lie? Would she feel anything after Willow broke the spell? What if she bumped into her mom somehow? Swirling pain rose inside her, threatening to overwhelm everything. A black abyss opened up beneath her feet, and she couldn't decide whether she wanted to throw all of them in, or just herself.

"_STOP IT!_"

Wow. That was loud. She hadn't known this library could produce an echo, but apparently it could. The hanging lamps swung on their cables, the doors were drifting back and forth. One of the lenses in Giles's glasses had shattered.

"Willow," she said, over the sounds of creaking hinges and falling glass. "Break the spell. Just get it over with." Drained, she dropped to the floor, huddling in on herself. Everybody was staring at her, focused. Willow slipped aside behind the counter and began chanting. It disgusted her that they didn't even ask 'Are you sure?' before Willow went ahead. No, they just went with it, probably glad that Buffy had finally made the right choice... She really hated them just that second.

"You're really doin' this?" Spike asked, kneeling by her side. "Really wanna break it?"

"I can't do this anymore. Coming back... I think it was a mistake. It was all so easy in LA, and then as soon as I got here I reverted. Dutiful, loyal, obedient Buffy. I know I'll never convince them to let the spell stay, and honestly, it wasn't enough. I wanted to love you with everything I had, but I couldn't help holding back, couldn't help doubting myself. And I can't put it off any longer. I just want it done."

Spike nodded, slowly. She hoped he understood that nowhere in that had she said that she wanted to be through with him. It was surely worth a try when they were both freed, right? They'd been getting on so well, maybe they could do it for real? She didn't want to start Slaying again, she knew she couldn't come back to school, and her mother had looked serious about barring her out. They could live together, somewhere quiet, just the two of them. Maybe. Everything was maybe right now.

Willow's voice drifted across, borne on burning herbs. Their aroma filled her up, soothing, calm. _Let go_, it whispered. _Let it all go. Go back the way you were_.

_No_, she fought back. _Not the way I was. I want to keep this, keep what happened. Don't make me forget._

_Let go_. _Let it go._

Buffy relaxed, and felt something precious, something wonderful, peeling away from her, leaving her raw and sore underneath. Sadness rushed to fill the void, mixed with loss and despair. Hurriedly she conjured up an image of Spike in her mind.

Nothing.

There wasn't even a glimpse of him in her mind's eye, not the faintest shred blowing across. Her eyes shot open, searching for him.

There was nobody there.

She rocketed upwards, head shooting around, desperately scanning the room for him. Nothing. Spike was gone.

Spike was _gone._

She dropped back to the floor, air gasping out of her. Spike was gone, but she still wanted him there. She wanted him beside her. She wanted his support, to say something snarky about what was going on, to give her the strength to stand on her feet. She clutched at the memories of their shared time together. Somehow, the spell was gone but her feelings for him remained, if altered. She didn't feel the love for him anymore, the crazy, boundless love from the start, those awkward embraces on the floor, as they tried to cross the room while making out. On top of that was something else, something she still had. Maybe, while the spell had forced them together, they'd gotten to know each other properly? Maybe they actually were friends?

"Buffy?"

She couldn't tell them. They could never know. "He's gone. But so's the spell, so that's good." The lie felt heavy in her mouth.

"There was a sort of flash and he just disappeared." Willow's face appeared in her field of vision. "He's really gone, Buffy."

He was probably back with Drusilla. The spell had forced her away, so now that it was gone it made sense they'd be back together. And while her feelings of friendship were as important as the ties to her other friends, from Spike's end they had to be meaningless. Compared with Drusilla, his idol for a century or more, Buffy knew she had probably faded into oblivion by now.

She wished she didn't feel so alone, so ruined, so naked.

Spike was gone. What brief love they'd felt for each other had vanished into wherever unwanted magic went. She had to move on.

Or move backward.

She couldn't escape her destiny now. Whatever she actually wanted, her Watcher would make her Slay again. He'd probably be so disappointed in her that she'd _want _to start again. She'd find somewhere to stay, somewhere where her mother wasn't, at least for a few days.

She would re-adapt to life without Spike.

It would be like everything had never happened.

Her heart felt cold.


	7. Return

Buffy had never known that every single day could be worse than the preceding one. Surely, by the time you were alone, homeless and expelled, things couldn't get any worse.

No, they got worse when you bumped into your mother at the supermarket.

No, they got worse when _she_ demanded an apology from _you_.

No, they got worse when you were rejected from re-enrolment.

_Even worse_ than that was when you got _accepted _for re-enrolment.

Things had never looked further down the drain than they were right now. They were so far down they'd washed out to sea. Buffy would have preferred to be drifting around the North Atlantic than being here, walking through a misty graveyard, corpses passing beneath her feet, fingers wrapped around the single stick of wood that stood between her and death.

Yeah. The good life.

Bull.

She sighed, watching her breath fog out in front of her and disperse on the winds. If she'd just stayed in LA, she could be sleeping right now. Of course, had she stayed in LA she and Spike would probably have gotten naked under the influence of Willow's love spell. Buffy didn't think she would have minded. Obviously Spike couldn't be that bad, since thoughts of him hadn't left her since Willow undid the spell. She'd wished for his unquestioning support when confronting her mother, his understanding shoulder when she finally let herself cry over Angel, his sarcastic humour as she sat through remedial chemistry. While the crazy-hot-lust between them was gone, something real had been built in its place. Something that let Buffy think of a vampire without wanting to stake it.

But she couldn't call Spike a friend. _Friends _were people like Willow and Xander, Oz and Cordelia, ordinary people that she had to protect and hide her Slayer side from. Spike wasn't like that. He knew about the Slayer, and treated her no differently to the girl whose body she lived in. Spike treated Buffy as a whole person, and her friends just couldn't do that. And Spike wasn't her boyfriend, either. Her _boyfriend _had been Angel, somebody she saw rarely and thought she'd spend her entire life with. She knew Spike wasn't marriage material, and she'd been pretty scared off love given her past experiences. And her heart didn't race just to see him, either. She didn't love Spike by anybody's definition.

So what the hell was this? Buffy really didn't know. Spike might feel nothing at all, and this could all be wishful thinking. Maybe she needed a connection so badly, her subconscious had invented one for her. Spike was probably cuddling up to Drusilla at this very moment.

A yawn split her face open forcefully, reminding her of those days in LA where she'd slept as much as she'd wanted. Not anymore. Now she caught a nap straight after dinner before popping out of her bedroom window, spending hours on her feet, then getting another hour or two of sleep before a day of school. Science said that teenagers needed eight hours of sleep a night, right? Maybe she could accuse her destiny of infringing on her human right to sleep. Oh yeah, like that'd work.

This would be the third night in a row with no vampires. She didn't mind saving lives now and again; she'd just like a pager so she could be on the job only when there was a job to do. Evil, whatever Giles said, was _not _unsleeping. It was lazy and careless, and a big fat load of _not here._

Buffy kicked at a rock, sending it several dozen yards across the lawn. She thought it sailed through a solid wood fence. Damn Slayer strength. As if she needed any more reminders that she was _different_, _special_, _predestined_. She'd tried to give this up in exchange for a destiny of _eat, sleep, do nothing_. She'd do it again if she could get away with it, but she already knew her friends could find her in minutes. Surely location spells counted as stalking?

She couldn't run, and she didn't want to stay. Trapped.

She was seriously fu-

Movement.

Buffy whirled, stake appearing in her upraised fist. Something had been behind her, just a second ago. Something fast, and quiet. And unfriendly, if it was sneaking up on her, in a graveyard, at two in the morning.

"Who's there?" she asked, voice snappy. She didn't expect an answer, although a head poking from behind a tree saying 'Me!' wouldn't have been unhelpful. She just wanted to distract them, keep them off balance. Let her find them. "Come on. I know you're here, and you must know I'm here, since you're stalking me-"

It was the one voice she expected least to hear. "Stalkin', pet? Didn' think you'd mind me _tha'_ much."

Buffy spun on her heel, stake plummeting from her hand. "Spike!" Relief flooded her veins. He was here. They could sort this out, now, what she felt and if he felt the same thing.

If, over the days they'd been under the love spell's influence, anything real had grown underneath it. She was sure it had, but what were the chances of Spike agreeing? She had to know if he counted her as a friend. That was all she was after, really; being with Angel had taught her that romance did not go with Slaying. Maybe if she wasn't trying to manage school and a home life as well, but her future held nothing but single-Buffy.

"Back to Slayin', I see."

"Yeah. They all wanted it, and it's hard to not save people from getting their throats ripped out, y'know?"

"But you didn' want it?"

Buffy shrugged and sat down, back resting against somebody's headstone. Spike sprawled lazily on the grass before her. "I'm not sure it's really _me _anymore. I mean, before it was always, yay, fight, adrenaline, fun. Now it's more like a job that has to be done. I got to be normal for a few days... and I liked it too much. I want it back, but for now I guess this is who I am again. It's not what I want, but that's never been a problem before."

Spike smiled, the corner of his mouth quirking. "We always end up talkin', don't we? Whatever 'appens, we jus' talk about it."

"You're good to talk to. I don't know why, but you are." And the fact that she could still talk to him, that she wasn't dead right now, meant... "Not that this isn't a lovely chat, but I'm wondering why you haven't tried to kill me yet."

Spike laughed at her words; the same words he'd said to her on that roadside where he'd picked her up. "Didn' come to kill you, Buffy. Don' wanna." He dropped his gaze and picked at the grass, hands actually unsteady. "Somethin' passed between us, somethin' I 'aven't felt before. I didn' know love could be more than just..." His eyes sought hers, and she met his gorgeous blue gaze, usually so sure of itself, now hesitant. "When Willow did the spell, I got sent back to Dru. She wasn' very 'appy about tha', considerin' she was _entertainin' _her new lover at the time."

"Oh, Spike, I'm so sorry..."

"Remember when she disappeared? Turned out she got dumped in some Russian demon hellhole somewhere. And she'd gotten in with some guy by the next day. Didn' really matter to me. It was perfectly clear I wasn' welcome."

"That sucks," Buffy said softly. "Did you... did you _want _to be welcome?"

"Not really," Spike shrugged. "I thought I loved her, all those decades together, but those days with you… they taught me that it wasn' love. What me an' Dru 'ad was never about love. You really loved me, Buffy. I thought what Dru and I had was love. I didn' realise it takes two. And even though the spell's gone now, I keep thinkin' about when we were together, how good it was to 'ave somebody who actually cared about me."

"That's how I feel," Buffy whispered. He agreed? He felt the same? Like something _meaningful _had grown between them, when they weren't mindlessly groping each other? "Like even though I was crazy in love, I was getting to know you. I was seeing parts of you I hadn't before. I mean, it's kind of difficult to spend time with a guy intent on killing you-"

Spike dropped his head again, looking embarrassed.

"-but I realise you're not a bad person, inside. I like you. You seemed to look at me, and see _me_, not the Slayer or anything else. Everybody else tries to fit me into this mould, and there's always some part of me hanging out. You don't want a mould. You just see Buffy. I didn't know who that was before this."

She hadn't known she'd felt so deeply before the words came, but as soon as they took form their truth was obvious. Daughter, Slayer, girlfriend, friend; all were roles that she couldn't play, not all of her. Mom didn't want to know the Slayer, Angel didn't want to know the girl... And she couldn't show them. She had to keep parts of herself buried, all the time. Spike had no expectations. He just looked at who she was, all of her, and she could show him whatever she wanted. He already knew all the secrets that would tear anybody else apart.

"I've tried to be somethin' I'm not for a hundred years, now," Spike said after a minute. "I worshipped the bloody ground Dru walked on - and it _was _bloody, lot of the time - cared for her, brought her through countless fits and ramblings, and I never knew that I was just an object to her. I could'a been anybody. Could'a been the milkman or somebody's grandpa, it was meaningless to her. But you made me feel like I was the only person you needed, right there; that you didn' want anybody else. Only me."

"That was true, Spike. Nobody could have done what you did. You made me feel wanted, and safe, and happy. And I don't blame that on any spell. That was all you."

He cared. Just like her, he actually _cared._ He felt it too, this relationship, whatever it was - he liked her, as a person, he truly liked her. And she liked him. She could get around the vampire thing, she had with Angel. Spike could have her blood, or animal blood like Angel had. She thought he'd do it if she asked. They could actually be friends? She could have somebody who was there for _all _of her - not just parts, but all of her. Somebody she could talk to. Somebody who cared. Somebody to be her everything.

"What is this, anyway?" Spike asked. "I mean, it ain't love, that's for damn sure."

"Hell, no," Buffy agreed. "Love and Buffy just don't work out together. But _friends _seems too... too casual. And this is something really special." Something based on mutual support, or something, something nameless. It wasn't love, but maybe it wasn't as far away from love as all that. Spike was somebody she could fight beside, joke with, sit around and chat about school with. She got the feeling they could really do everything together. Whenever Buffy was with Willow and Xander, it always felt like the Slayer got in the way. She wasn't fragmented like that with Spike. "_God, _this is confusing!"

"You're tellin' me," Spike said. "I was a poet 'fore I died and I still can't find a word for this."

"You were a _poet_?" Buffy didn't know whether to laugh or... no, she just wanted to laugh.

"A bloody awful poet, but you'd think I could name the most importan' thin' in my life."

"Maybe it doesn't need a name? Maybe we should just... let it be? Like, we were studying beauty in this philosophy elective I have, and somebody said that part of what makes something beautiful is that you can't _say _what it is that makes it beautiful. It just is. Maybe this just _is_, too."

"I like that."

Buffy considered it. It sounded good. "Me too."

"Jus' let it 'appen as it 'appens."

"Give it time."

Buffy crawled over and laid down next to him, head pillowed on his arm in a totally comfortable, non-sexual way. The sky spread out open above them, stars glittering in the dark. They had forever to get to know each other, a relationship based on actually knowing everything, on sharing everything. It felt supportive, and wonderful, and perfect.

And happy.

Together.


End file.
